


the levity of a pumpkin lantern

by smithens



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Halloween, Jack-o'-lanterns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <em>“A carved pumpkin,” Enjolras repeated, eyebrows raised in almost comical fashion. “However did you carve a pumpkin?” </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <em>Combeferre sighed and adjusted it beneath his arm. Even gutted and carved, it was awfully heavy.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <em>“I did not.” Enjolras’s eyes had previously been focused on the vegetable, but at that he looked up to meet Combeferre’s own. His gaze was powerful as ever, even if quizzically light-hearted, and for a moment Combeferre forgot that he was standing outside of Enjolras’s door carrying a pumpkin.</em><br/></p>
</blockquote>Combeferre receives a gift in the form of a carved pumpkin. He and Enjolras enjoy it together.
            </blockquote>





	the levity of a pumpkin lantern

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween 2015! :) it's short but sweet (i hope).

"What is it?"

“A carved pumpkin.”

“A carved pumpkin,” Enjolras repeated, eyebrows raised in almost comical fashion. “However did you carve a pumpkin?”

Combeferre sighed and adjusted it beneath his arm. Even gutted and carved, it was awfully heavy.

“I did not.” Enjolras’s eyes had previously been focused on the vegetable, but at that he looked up to meet Combeferre’s own. His gaze was powerful as ever, even if quizzically light-hearted, and for a moment Combeferre forgot that he was standing outside of Enjolras’s door carrying a pumpkin.

When he remembered, he blinked. “Might I come in?”

In lieu of speaking, Enjolras stepped aside and opened his door to allow him to come in; Combeferre entered. He had not been inside Enjolras’s rooms in over a fortnight. Nonetheless, he was unsurprised to see that the small parlour remained as Spartan as ever, and judging by its orderliness, Enjolras had not spent much time inside, either.

They stood in silence for a moment, Enjolras staring intently once more at the carved pumpkin.

Unfortunately, the pumpkin must not have been accustomed to being stared at, and it began to slip from Combeferre’s grasp.

Deftly, he switched it to his other arm, only to grimace at its weight. 

“You’ve the freedom to set it down, Combeferre,” Enjolras said, and whereas before he had appeared thoroughly baffled, he was now smiling with amusement. As Combeferre, heaving a sigh, crouched to place it onto the floor, Enjolras continued: “If you did not carve it, who did?”

Combeferre stood.

“That was Bahorel.” 

“Bahorel strikes me more as a man to smash it rather than to carve it.”

“Jean Prouvaire assisted, I was told.”

That ought to have explained most of it, Combeferre thought, as he had not received much explanation from Bahorel himself, but Enjolras persisted in his inquisition. 

“That hardly explains the matter. What are you expected to... do with it?”

This would certainly be a story to tell, if Combeferre knew all of the story to begin with. As it was, the exchange between himself and Bahorel had been brief: Bahorel, apparently, had had mind to acquire a rutabaga next, and had departed shortly after explaining what he ought to do with a pumpkin that had a skull’s face in it.

(That explanation had amounted to: “Aha! Make it a lantern.”)

Combeferre removed his spectacles, took his handkerchief, and began to clean them - they hadn’t been all that dusty, but it was a habit. “I suspect, put a candle in it,” he said, shrugging. “Bahorel’s advice was to ‘make it a lantern.’” Perhaps Enjolras would find it frivolous. Combeferre would not blame him, if that was the case; though, if he did, it would require him to take the pumpkin back to his own lodgings. The prospect of such a trip did not particularly excite him.

When he replaced his glasses, however, Enjolras was still smiling, this time with a gleam of intention in his blue eyes.

“I should not like to disappoint him.”

* * *

Later in the night, after they had suppered together, Enjolras moved the pumpkin to a table in the parlour as Combeferre himself fiddled with the tinderbox at the divan. 

It turned out that Enjolras had a candle in his cupboards that appeared to be just the right size to light up the inside of the pumpkin, and that he was not averse to using it.

In fact, to Combeferre’s surprise, Enjolras seemed to be enjoying himself.

After at least a fortnight full of stress, perhaps the levity of a pumpkin lantern was what he needed. If that was the case, and Enjolras was content, then Combeferre was, also.

Enjolras, after drawing the curtains - the sun had set, anyhow - came to sit beside Combeferre, and for a bit longer, they were silent. 

Then Combeferre managed to light the splint, and with utmost care, he lit the candle they had placed in the hollow before replacing the top of the pumpkin and quickly dampening the charcloth.

He settled back to look.

“Impressive,” Enjolras murmured, and Combeferre took his hand. 

It was indeed: no matter from where Jean Prouvaire and Bahorel had received the idea, its execution was wholly worth the effort (minimal, of course, on Combeferre’s part - but he could not imagine how vexing it might have been to hollow and carve a pumpkin). The flickering of the candle gave the pumpkin’s countenance, which in the daylight from earlier had been comical, an overall eerie effect.

The surface was carved in rough approximation of the eyes, nose, and mouth that together compromised a skull’s face; now that it was lit from behind, no matter its macabre nature, Combeferre thought it quite striking. But for the glow of the pumpkin in their corner and a lone candle at the opposite side of the room, they were in darkness - still, there was light enough that Combeferre could make out Enjolras’s profile and expression. When he looked aside, Enjolras’s fond smile was lit by the soft, orange glow.

Though the air around them was cool, Combeferre felt distinctly warm as he felt Enjolras’s hand in his own and saw his content expression. It was the first time he had seen him so serene in weeks, and he could not resist smiling to himself.

After a moment more of looking, he turned his gaze back, and Enjolras settled down to rest against his shoulder.

“I am glad, Combeferre,” he began, and Combeferre squeezed his hand as he spoke, “that you chose to visit me with your carved pumpkin.”

“As am I,” Combeferre murmured in reply. 

They fell silent, then: hands joined, together illuminated in the flickering glow of the pumpkin lantern, and contented.


End file.
